


Out of the Darkness

by idreamofignoct



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt, M/M, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:26:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9963698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idreamofignoct/pseuds/idreamofignoct
Summary: Noctis struggles against the emotional aftermath brought on by Leviathan's summoning. Yet another foray into sappy IgNoct and another fic named after a song.





	

Noctis was used to pain. He’d been in enough battles to gain a tolerance for it. But this pain…? No potion in Eos had enough curative power.

The succession of tragedies had come swiftly, leaving him no time to breathe, to think. He felt the world closing in on him and, childishly, all he wanted was for everything to be back the way it was. Huddled under blankets for a late-night match in King’s Knight with Prompto. Grumble good-naturedly whenever Gladio challenged his prowess in battle. See how far his criticism of the night’s meal got him before Ignis casually promised to ‘forget’ Noctis’s disdain for vegetables.

Ignis…

A sharp jostle brought Noctis’s thoughts back to the present. Pleasant memories of nights by the campfire transitioned into the train’s drab interior. His gaze drifted across the aisle. Ignis sat with head bowed, his body swaying as the train did. His fingers rested atop a black cane, its design as refined as its owner. If Noctis disregarded the cane’s true purpose, he could almost believe his advisor was the same old Ignis. But the dark glasses, combined with the large scar on his face, served as painful reminder of this new reality. Ignis’s withdrawal from the group, sharp contrast to his impassioned plea just before they found the royal tomb, troubled Noctis. He longed to pull him back to them- to him- and he didn’t know how to go about it. Meanwhile, lingering feelings compounded over the past several weeks grew heavier and heavier.

Restless, Noctis stood and stalked toward the doors. He avoided looking at the desolate countryside streaming past. It seemed the train had as little desire to linger there as Noctis. And, like Noctis, the train was committed to a destination set by those who had come before. The comparison soured his mood.

As he passed through the dinner car, he glimpsed a few people gathered around a radio. The newscaster spoke of the evacuation from Altissia, the destruction summoning Leviathan invoked. He winced, recalling how the encounter left him drained. Imagined the cold seeping through his clothing, prompting him to double check that his clothes were dry. But when the newscaster spoke of Luna, the well of emotion overwhelmed him. He sought sanctuary in an empty sleeper car.

There, he braced himself against the wall. His legs shook. Sweat dampened his palms. He passed his hand across his eyes, but it didn’t banish the memory: blood staining Luna’s white dress, the glisten of red along the thin edge of a knife. The cold satisfaction in her killer’s eyes. The mocking bow in his direction. And Noctis, helpless to prevent it all.

A pained sound emerged from his throat, part cry, part groan, as he sank to the floor. His heart raced, slowed, raced again, as sorrow gave way for crippling guilt. It was all his fault. Luna, murdered. The people of Altissia, displaced. And Ignis, silent, scarred, adrift in a colorless world, his greatest asset stolen from him. He’d never experience the joy of cooking for them. Never see the sunrise again. Never look Noctis in the eyes again. 

Noctis’s head snapped up. Rage flowed, white-hot, through him, as potent as the energy required to summon one of the Six. Energy crackled between his fingers as his thoughts courted the magic that was his bloodline. He wanted Ardyn. Make him pay. For his father, for Luna, for Ignis. Noctis shot to his feet, wrenched the door open just as the train passed through a tunnel and plunged all in darkness. 

A figure appeared, eerily summoned from the darkness itself, to block Noctis’s path. He couldn’t tell who it was- Gladio maybe, or Prompto. “No,” Noctis growled, stepping past. “I’m going after that bastard. Either come with me or get out of the way.”

The figure stepped forward. The door shuddered closed at his back. Noctis glared. It was going to be like this, huh? He was ready. “Let me go. He has to pay for what he did.” His fingers tingled with the want to summon his weapons.

Slender hands settled upon his shoulders. The train emerged from the tunnel. Light flooded the cabin, picking out the dark gleam of Ignis’s glasses, the grim line of his mouth. A small wound Noctis hadn’t noticed scarred his bottom lip. He had a quiet intensity about him that stilled Noctis’s protests. 

“And he will,” Ignis said softly. “Right now, I can’t let your rage take you from us. We need you, more than ever. You must stay focused.” 

Angry tears filled Noctis’s eyes. “I was focused when we got to Altissia. I was focused when I battled Leviathan. And none of it mattered.” Bitterness hung on each word. “Don’t you get it, Ignis? It’s all my fault.” 

Ignis’s lips twitched into a frown. “No. You are not to blame,” he said, tightening his grip when Noctis tried to shrug him off. 

“I am,” Noctis insisted. He broke free, staggered toward the nearest bed. His anger deserted him, quite suddenly, and he sank onto the mattress. He wrung his hands together. Tears splashed onto his fingers. “Dammit.” His voice was a low rasp. “I never wanted any of it to happen.”

A brief silence passed. Noctis glimpsed the cane tapping a path toward the bed. Ignis felt along the surface first, then eased next to him. Their arms brushed as Ignis set the cane aside. His hand settled onto his leg, fingers curling over his knee. Noctis abruptly realized Ignis had beautiful hands. 

“None of us anticipated what happened, Noct. But it did. There’s no changing it, and no sense in blaming yourself.” Ignis paused for a heartbeat, then turned to face Noctis. He slowly removed his glasses. Noctis drew in a sharp breath. Up until then, he seemed reluctant to show the extremity of his wound. It’d been a source of shame, or so Noctis assumed.   
He laid a reassuring hand on Noctis’s arm. Warmth from their contact passed through his clothing to heat his skin below. 

“I might not see again,” Ignis said softly. “Regardless, I’m not letting you face this alone. Not while I can still walk by your side.”

Noctis’s pulse quickened. Duty, dedication, and love suffused his words, dominated Ignis’s features. His acceptance of what happened had not deterred him one bit. Dependable, sensible Ignis. Noctis wished he had his advisor’s fortitude. And, as he watched Ignis’s fingers curl around his, he knew he had something better. 

When Noctis lifted his head to Ignis’s face, his gaze was drawn to the other man’s lips. He didn’t think twice about pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Ignis turned to meet the prince’s lips, as if this moment had been scripted long before. Noctis clung to him, understanding at last the cure to his pain had been right in front of him, all along.

**Author's Note:**

> What is it about pain and these two? I can't seem to get enough.


End file.
